


The Jewel In The Dome

by CalamityCain



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Clone Sex, Clubbing, Genderbending, Intersex Loki (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Lapdance, M/M, Pole Dancing, Pole Dancing Loki (Marvel), Possessive Thor (Marvel), Sakaar (Marvel), Sex Club, Shapeshifting, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 01:13:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13179228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityCain/pseuds/CalamityCain
Summary: * * * *"Sex . Magic . Blood. Brutality":TONIGHT AT THE DOME:A Shapeshifting Dancer from the Mythical Land of Ice Giants!&The Warrior King of Asgard VS The Last Shieldmaid of the Valkyria!* * * *A straightforward retrieval-and-escape mission has every chance of going awry when the plan involves a lap-dancing trophy twink and his possessive brother.





	The Jewel In The Dome

**Author's Note:**

> Music and setting plays a significant part in this story.  
> If you are reading this on a computer or a device that allows multi-tasking windows, click on the songs in each hyperlink for the mood of each scene :)

 

At the fringe of the Imperial City is a silver dome that bars all but the wealthiest or most beautiful from entering. Its gleaming surface is cut into facets so that each one picks up the light in different ways and reflects it back in varying degrees of brilliance. Every third night, its closely guarded doors will open to the select few as the rest of the snaking line that forms outside invariably fails to pass through.

 

[The first thing one notices upon stepping in is that the Dome is much bigger on the inside.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4X8Vg2MwYWo&list=PLohYzz4btpaQYP8cIQh3VSURixMyLD20E&index=8) Within its gleaming shell, the ceiling stretches on forever and moves to the beat of a throbbing supernova. The walls are amorphous and offer up a myriad of vivid illusions depending on the visitor’s substance of choice.

 

A network of cavernous chambers are linked like a hive for those who know how to navigate them, and rooms within rooms like a matrioshka doll, and labyrinthine corridors that disappear the night after, and small daises in between where painted performers mimic living statues by freezing themselves in various poses. In a mezzanine space accessible only though designated elevators are large iridescent bubbles suspended mid-air, in which mind-reading contortionists illustrate your most secret fantasies in moving tattoos on their naked bodies.

 

The very centre of the dome, known simply as the Core, houses a circular raised platform that unfolds and expands or shrinks to fit any number of attractions and performances, ranging from the comedic to the erotic to the simply bizarre. But they are, to the last, unfailingly spectacular.

 

They have to be. They are performing for their lives. To be dull is a mistake from which one will never recover.

 

The Dome is called by several other names: The Crown, Angmo II (after the Red King who was its most generous patron), The Geode (after its glittering faceted appearance, or perhaps for Geot – the capital City’s name of old). There has never been need for an official one. Its reputation extends to the very outer reaches of Sakaar, and by any name access to its hallowed halls are just as desirable. In the day its edifice is jet-black; after darkfall it begins to turn silver, and that is when the life within awakens.

 

The evening’s entertainment is emblazoned in shining letters and illustrations on large crimson playbills levitating all around the Dome. On this night, the Core promises its audience _‘A Shapeshifting Dancer from the Mythical Land of Ice Giants’_ followed by some much-anticipated bloodsport: a match between _‘The Warrior King of Asgard and The Last Shieldmaid of the Valkyria_ _!’_

 

The mythical dancer presumably awaits his or her cue from the velvet-lined holding chamber from which performers enter the stage. The warrior king and shieldmaiden are nowhere to be seen.

 

[As the lights dim, the music rises, at once restless and hypnotic.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uTJTXg7whac&list=PLohYzz4btpaQYP8cIQh3VSURixMyLD20E&index=22) Later the hive of lounges and private rooms will have its fill of patrons. But for now, the Core commands attention, and the front row has already been fully occupied.

 

From beneath the hood of a heavy cloak, a bir-swigging man near the bar murmurs:

 

“Did Korg secure a bay for the Commodore?”

 

“He did,” his similarly hooded companion replies over her Magawhisky. “We have a ten-minute window after the dance show before the cue for our turn.”

 

“Good. We’ll grab him and go, quick and quiet.” A pause as he empties his glass, then – “What sort of dancing _is_ this, exactly?”

 

“The exotic kind.”

 

Before he can ask if it merely means ‘from far away’, the music lowers and the lights change to a deep, undersea blue. The warm booming voice of the Grandmaster fills the air:

 

“People of The Dome, a pleasure to have you as always. Please open your arms, hearts, and possibly legs to a few very special guest entertainers from distant realms! Later tonight: a fierce battle between two of the finest warriors glorious Assberg has to offer...”

 

“As- _gard_ ,” growls the hooded man rather loudly. “Shut up, Thor” the woman hisses.

 

“But first, a mesmerizing show of beauty, dexterity, and other ahh, special talents from none other than a jewel of Jotunheim! Half frost giant, half sorcerer; all marvellous. _I_ should know.” A low chuckle. “Please welcome my precious, my love...here tonight for your entertainment...Prince Loki!”

 

[The entire chamber goes dark. A new hypnotic beat starts playing.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OehxXNCYvTM) Then the deep-sea glow rises again, and on the previously empty stage a slender silhouette unfolds to reveal undulating hips and arms that move like serpents. The flick of each finger seems to speak its own wordless language. Tiny gems on the slim wrists wink in the light along with more gems woven into the dancer’s wavy hair.

 

When the spotlight casts its glow to reveal his full form at last, a murmur of appreciation runs through the audience. Thor finds his own breath stolen by a beauty both foreign and familiar, ice-blue skin marked by raised whorls and gold-lined eyes the colour of blood, of rubies. It is Loki, but not a Loki he has ever had permission to gaze upon. This undulating form is clothed in swathes of translucent material Thor doubts is native to freezing Jötunheimr and titillates spectators by slowly removing one panel of fabric after another until he is wearing nothing but gemstones and fine thread-like golden chains.

 

A pole now materialises at the centre of the stage, and Loki takes to it like a fish to water. Thor tries not to react when the curve of a pert behind he has taken for granted most of his life suddenly makes itself intensely...well, _noticeable._ His brother is dancing for his life, and he should be worried more than anything – not that he isn’t. But his body is also feeling something else entirely. With each thrust, wiggle and undulation, the area below his belly grows ever warmer until he resorts to standing with his hands folded over his crotch while hoping Brunnhilde doesn’t notice.

 

(She does, of course. But she has also seen the two stealing unbrotherly looks at each other during her entire time with them, and has long gotten over it.)

 

As Loki spins around the pole, those spectacular legs defying gravity, some aspects of his appearance start to change. Exquisite curving horns sprout from his temples to adorn him like a crown; then the horns become ivory and gold; then the ivory seeps through his entire body until he resembles a marble statue, naked save for a cluster of chains veiling his sex. The statue is beautiful, but weighed down by his cold rigid flesh, frozen in a sinuous twist with one arm and hip pressed against the pole.

 

For a long moment he is perfectly unmoving. Then cracks appear in the marble-like skin and liquid gold seeps through the cracks as viewers clap at the marvellous illusion. He moves stiffly, then fluidly again, then pirouettes faster and faster until the white is replaced entirely by gold. This shimmering creature now clambers back up the pole and gracefully grinds his hips against it, his expression contorting as he appears to bring himself to orgasm with his own movements. With each thrust he climbs higher, and higher. The audience hoots and cheers.

 

He arches and stiffens from an apparent climax. Then his body goes limp – he falls from the great height he has achieved, and Thor feels his stomach clench even though he knows it is all a trick. Just before Loki hits the stage floor, the pole turns into flowing red fabric that winds itself around him like a wide ribbon and catches him. He seems to wake from his unconscious state; he blinks, turns to the viewers, and smiles coyly at their applause. The eyes go from blood-red to their usual green. Then the gold peels back to reveal his usual pale skin and tumble of ink-black hair.

 

He starts levitating again, spinning and contorting from the silken red fabric suspended from the endless ceiling. Suddenly there are two of him – both naked, both tangled in the swathe of ribbon. Then the twins meet in the middle and take hold of each other, and bring their lips together in a long, tongue-filled kiss. The area around the stage goes wild.

 

The sex of each Loki shifts continuously for a good minute, breasts swelling from a flat chest, a flash of an aroused cock turning into a subtler curve with the shadow of a slit, ripe and flushed. Somewhere along the way Thor’s hand starts unconsciously stroking the hard girth beneath it before he realises he’s only making things worse for himself and stops.

 

Then both conjurer and clone are male again, and one takes the other’s cock in a wet waiting mouth to raucous cheers. Legs and arms entwine; juices flow and glisten in the dreamy light; a moan of uncontrolled pleasure breaks through the loud music. The two contort and meld and melt into each other until Loki stands alone before them again.

 

The routine is drawing to an end, and Thor exhales in relief. Loki twists his body around the ribbon a few more times as it solidifies again into a pole. He ends by collapsing bonelessly on the floor as if having just been fucked senseless. The applauding is long and enthusiastic. Thor half expects a standing ovation.

 

But the crowd stays where they are; for things are not over yet.

 

The music fades out, [changes again, fades back in – a lascivious, thumping beat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6pKhwimqAbg&list=PLohYzz4btpaQYP8cIQh3VSURixMyLD20E&index=23) – as Loki rises with seductive hooded eyes. He seems to be taking his time now, hips swaying leisurely as he surveys the room. Thor notices the flashes of green dotting the front row audience. “What are those?”

 

Brunnhilde looks uncomfortable, as if she suspects he won’t like her answer. “Tipping devices,” she said.

 

“What?”

 

“Watch and find out.”

 

The devices emitting the green glows are flat, metallic, shaped like candy bars. A flash of green shines brighter than the others, and Loki singles out its wielder, a powerfully built Sovereign. He sashays over and straddles the broad lap while supporting himself with hands planted on the man’s velvet-clad shoulders.

 

Thor can take the patron’s leery gaze and the lewd hoots of his compatriots. But when he puts his paws on places it has no business going (at least in Thor’s eyes), he jerks forward in reflex, and Brunnhilde has to slap a palm on his chest. “Loki knows what he’s doing,” she said. “It’s part of the plan – don’t blow it.”

 

“A plan no one cared to mention to me, evidently,” Thor replies, glaring at the Sovereign’s back as if attempting to stab it with his eyeballs.

 

Loki does not stay on one lap for long, moving to the next neon-green beacon and letting its owner have her way with him, turning jötunn-blue to suit her taste. The third customer he goes to appears to also favour this form with the addition of tits, judging by his decision to sprout them for the sole purpose of being fondled by large reptilian hands. He sighs as if it brings him genuine pleasure, wrapping his lithe thighs around his patron’s waist and arching back so all can see the feast laid bare before them.

 

Brunnhilde has just ordered herself another Magawhisky and is about to take a sip when Thor snatched it from her hands, downing half the lot. “Hey!”

 

“If I’m to bear the sight of my little brother having to whore himself to save us all – ”

 

“It was _his_ idea! And keep your voice down.”

“Why? It’s not like anyone is paying us any attention.” True enough, the spotlight belongs entirely to Loki as he now lavishes his paid affections on a pink-skinned Imperial whose status is obviously displayed in his ornate robes and adornments.

 

Needing to distract himself, Thor buys them both another drink. Brunnhilde is watching the increasingly lascivious scene with an uneasy look.-

 

“What’s wrong?” he demands. “This _is_ part of the plan, right?”

 

“Of course. I just – it’s nothing.”

 

“It is NOT nothing.”

 

“Shhh!!” Brunnhilde frowns. “Alright, look...that’s one of the Red King’s favoured descendants. A right prick, is all. Unpleasant if he doesn’t get his way.”

 

She shrugs, trying belatedly to look nonchalant, but already Thor’s hands are balling into fists. The Imperial has just grabbed Loki’s wrists with a playful smirk, his voice loud and vulgar. Loki wears his most winsome smile as he persuades the man to let him go, but it seems his efforts are not working too well. When he successfully pulls away, a hand shoots out to grab his hair and give it a hard yank. Loki cries out in pain.

 

“Now, now,” booms the Grandmaster’s placating voice, “we should all have a fair chance at winning Prince Loki’s affections – ”

 

“Prince? Ha!” The Imperial sneers. “More like a common little tramp found on some forsaken planet and dressed up as royalty. Quite pretty, though. Come here, now...” He tugs at the strip of red silk that still draped Loki’s hips. When the latter resists him again, his sneer turns into a scowl.

 

There is the loud _thwack_ of a hard backhand – and Loki is sprawled on the floor, an arm up to shield himself.

 

Then several things happen very fast:

 

[A crackle of electricity; a wild roar to rival that of the Hulk](https://youtu.be/jlOYggrKfug?t=8); then a furious ball of muscle and lightning is rushing at the great-grandson of Angmo II.

 

Loki looks half grateful and half incensed as he shrieks “What happened to _the plan??_ ” while scrambling away from the scene of the brawl.

 

Brunnhilde grabs a chair to go for the Imperial princeling’s thugs, only to see that Thor is already flattening them. So instead she uses it ward off the gang of Kronan security officers charging in. And then goes through several more chairs and tables as they break against the rock-hard creatures.

 

Korg, conveniently undercover as one of the Kronan staff, has some trouble making his mild voice heard as he calls: “Are we going now, then?”

 

“ _Yes._ Grab Loki and Thor, and let’s go!!” yells the Last Shieldmaid of the Valkyria. But it is easier said than done; they have some trouble locating the errant lapdancer and even more trouble parting one Asgardian Warrior King from a dedicated effort to reduce the Imperial to a pulp. It involves a combination of quick camouflage and quicker reflexes, but mostly a lot of punching.

 

Then there is the Grandmaster himself to contend with.

 

“Hey – hey now, where are you three off to in such a hurry?” His blue-lined eyes crinkle merrily even as a small army of wildebots close in on them at the snap of his fingers. Bright purple threads rise around the runaways to form a wall around them. “Can’t have my main attractions leaving before the night is over! At least give the crowd a – ”

 

He never finishes his sentence. Loki leaps over the rising wall and presses himself against the Grandmaster, pulling him in for an open-mouthed kiss.

 

The two seconds of distraction are all they need to escape the half-formed trap and run hard for the doors, a couple of hulking bots on their tail. Korg punches one of them into a crumpled mass of steel as they burst into the open air and head for the parking bays where the garishly coloured Commodore is waiting.

 

“You have the passcode, eh?” Korg turns to Loki – who has just materialised at their side, almost fully clothed. (In their haste to escape, no one points out that he is missing a pant leg and most of a sleeve.)

 

They scramble on board and take off just as the Grandmaster emerges from the chaos and exclaims “My favourite ship!” and “Think of me when you’re riding that, Loki, darling!”

 

“Riding what...?” Korg begins just before Thor interjects “Don’t answer that.”

 

“I feel like we shouldn’t touch anything in here,” Brunnhilde remarks as she looks around gingerly in what is, after all, a designated orgy ship.

 

“Well, as you said, it was the least secured of all the vehicles.” Korg shrugs. “Spacious too. And the dashboard is simple to operate. Not too many buttons, eh? Can’t be fiddling around with all that when you’re busy, you know...” He smiles at Loki.

 

“Shut up, Korg,” says Loki.

 

**[-END-](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VkAVfsw5xSQ) **

 

**Author's Note:**

> TRACKLIST:
> 
> Grandmaster's Chambers - Thor Ragnarok OST  
> Planet Sakaar - Thor Ragnarok OST  
> E.T. - Katy Perry feat. Kanye West  
> Grandmaster Jam Session - Thor Ragnarok OST  
> Immigrant Song {Remix ver.} - Led Zeppelin  
> The Power Of Love - Huey Lewis & The News


End file.
